Susanne wrote:
> > You will oblige me very much if you will write to me and tell what you
> > think.
> > I shall read your letter with great anxiety.


Mairead replied:
......will give you some idea of the alacrity with
> which I would attend the garden fete did not 4,000 miles and suit problems
> intervene.
>

Susanne says:

Ah, Marianne-Mairead, you and only you deserve these lines:

.......

O flesh, O blood, O wood,
O utmost pain, may you atone for my sin,
in which I was born, as was my father before me.

You alone are good: may your supreme mercy
come to the help of this malignant state
so close to death and yet so far from God.

(sonnet, c. 1533) By whom?

Could I come to see you in Ithaca?
Zusssssssssssssss

----- Original Message -----
From: <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Cc: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, July 05, 2000 11:18 PM
Subject: Marianne and Elizabeth


> Dear Susanne,
> It is impossible for me to attend your recital at the garden fete as I
> live in Ithaca, New York.  My lack of a suit, decent or otherwise, would
> in any case inhibit my attendance.  I appreciate the invitation
> nonetheless and if you can imagine yourself as Elizabeth Bishop and me as
> Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop's enthusiasm sparking Marianne
> Moore's equally enthusiastic response which propels her
> Manhattanward as truly as the wind from the east carries Mary Poppins at
> the Banks' door, then that will give you some idea of the alacrity with
> which I would attend the garden fete did not 4,000 miles and suit problems
> intervene.
> All the best,
> Mairead
>
>
> INVITATION TO MISS MARIANNE MOORE
>
> From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
> please come flying.
> In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,
> please come flying,
> to the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums
> descending out of the mackerel sky
> over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water,
> please come flying.
>
> Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing.  The ships
> are signalling cordially with multitudes of flags
> rising and falling like birds all over the harbor.
> Enter: two rivers, gracefully bearing
> countless little pellucid jellies
> in cut-glass epergnes dragging with silver chains.
> The flight is safe; the weather is all arranged.
> The waves are running in verses this fine morning.
> Please come flying.
>
> Come with the pointed toe of each black shoe
> trailing a sapphire highlight,
> with a black capeful of butterfly wings and bon-mots,
> with heaven knows how many angels all riding
> on the broad black brim of your hat,
> please come flying.
>
> Bearing a musical inaidible abacus,
> a slight censorious frown, and blue ribbons,
> please come flying.
> Facts and skyscrapers glint in the tide; Manhattan
> is all awash with morals this fine morning,
> so please come flying.
>
> Mounting the sky with natural heroism,
> above the accidents, above the malignant movies,
> the taxicabs and injustices at large, while horns are resounding in your
> beautiful ears
> that simultaneously listen to
> a soft uninvented music, fit for the musk deer,
> please come flying.
>
> For whom the grim museums will behave
> like courteous male bower-birds,
> for whom the agreeable lions lie in wait
> on the steps of the Public Library,
> eager to rise and follow through the doors
> up into the reading rooms,
> please come flying.
> We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping,
> or play at a game of constantly being wrong
> with a priceless set of vocabularies,
> or we can bravely deplore, but please
> please come flying.
>
> With dynasties of negative constructions
> darkening and dying around you,
> with grammar that suddenly turns and shines
> like flocks of sandpipers flying,
> please come flying.
>
> Come like a light in the white mackerel sky,
> come like a daytime comet
> with a long unnebulous train of words,
> from Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
> please come flying.
>
> Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems, 1927-1979, FSG, NY 1989.
>
> On Thu, 6 Jul 2000, susanne wrote:
>
> > Mairead.
> >
> > Don't tell me! I fully agree with you!
> > I think Plath was a highbrow and NOT AT ALL a  miserable individual! She
was
> > assertive and very productive.
> >
> > Funny, though, how the world goes in a marry-go-round. And here it comes
> > again the beginning of the end.
> >
> > Until someone will get annoyed or disturbed
> > and will start addressing silly messages to this and that,
> > an action for which he will have to repent.
> >
> > Since everything
> > can be recorded. Especially in literary matters.
> >
> > The eternal return of the identical. Today, I am blind.
> > I looked for a long time at the sun until I decided it was noxious.
> > And here it comes someone who is
> > able to reestablish an order. I have more than once upset a whole Cafe'
by
> > laughing.
> > Which in my language was weeping.
> >
> > For all that I've said, your letter has to be regarded as exclusively
> > addressed to ALLY.
> > Here is a more reasonable request. I am singing at a garden fete on
Friday
> > and if you have a decent suit just come.
> > I don't understand the world the world rightly does not understand me.
> > Me and you, we do not understand each other.
> > The language does not serve its job.
> > I shall call to say farewell and adieu.
> > (incommunicability continues to flourish)
> > You will oblige me very much if you will write to me and tell what you
> > think.
> > I shall read your letter with great anxiety
>


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